Fic: Incompetence

Title: IncompetenceAuthor: AngiePenFandom: Harry PotterPairing: Draco/Giant SquidRating: RSummary: Evil schemes only work as well as your smartest henchman. ;)Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize. I know nothing about their social lives or sexual activities, more's the pity. This is fiction, period. It is done as a labor of love and I make no money from it.Notes: Written for oxoniensis's Porn Battle, using [Draco/Giant Squid, "My what big tentacles you have..."] It's really not all that porny per se, but cephalopod sex probably isn't meant to be incredibly hot anyway. :)

Of course the prank had gone wrong, Crabbe being too big of an arse to even hand him the right thing when asked and why he even hung out with these morons was something Draco had asked himself more than once.

The spell had gone off immediately rather than waiting for Miss Know-It-All Prefect to trigger it and the three of them had gone flying out the window in the direction of the lake. Only Draco had actually landed in the lake, while Crabbe and Goyle, being heavier, had landed in a bush and on the grass respectively and he hoped they had some damned painful bruises to remember it by.

But that was all water under the bridge (and through the drains and down to the lake) because Draco had been the one who'd researched the reproductive habits and cycles of one, to wit, giant squid and timed everything perfectly and all of his attention at that particular moment was focused upon Getting To The Bank. Swimming had, unfortunately, never been a sport in which Malfoys were expected to excel and a few lengths short of safety Draco felt a firm yet slimy tentacle wrap itself around his ankle and tug.

The shriek which emerged from Draco's throat was likewise not befitting a Malfoy but just then Draco didn't give a flying fuck.

More tentacles slid up his legs and if the determined cephalopod could even hear him yelling it wasn't responding any more than Crabbe and Goyle were. Or, scratch that -- it accellerated its purposeful action (which at that point involved removing his trousers) while the two brainless trolls on the bank were merely staring and babbling.

Draco felt his trousers slide off his legs, shortly followed by his pants, and then something smooth and boneless carefully explored his nether regions. One searching tentacle slid up under his shirt and made a couple of sweeps across his chest, as though for confirmation, then the whole mess of them went to work.

While most of the thing's tentacles tightened their grip and held him up with his face just above the water, a length of supple slime slid up into his arse, then a smaller one, then two more. The first and larger one proceeded to thrust rhythmically while the smaller ones just squirmed. Before Draco could bellow more than a couple of syllables of a command to HELP him for fuck's sake, one of the squirmy ones hit a spot that sent his voice shooting up a couple of octaves.

After that the noises he made didn't actually have any words to them (Goyle asked him later what spell he'd been trying to cast) and his sense of time passing wandered off. He'd no idea how long the rest of the process took, only that it was frantic and loud and full of gasping and flexing.

He was trying really hard to convince himself that he was absolutely not enjoying this on any level whatsoever when a sucker-lined tentacle wrapped itself around his already solid cock and carefully squeezed. After that it was all over but the shouting, of which there was still quite a lot to be gotten through.

Once he was down to gasping and wheezing and shuddering and trying to refocus his eyes while being distracted by the occasional spasm of aftershock, he heard a loud slurping-sucking sort of noise from under the water. A fairly strong current tugged on his hips and a tentative squint below the surface allowed him a glimpse of a really damned huge blob of invertebrate sucking in.... Well, at least that explained what was in it for the squid.

The thing unwound itself from Draco's person and jetted jauntily away, leaving him to splash along to shore and scramble up onto the bank, gasping and panting and wide-eyed and fighting off a horrifyingly pleasant lassitude.

This was all Granger's fault and he would get her back for it. Have to think of something better next time.

Draco had just tugged his soaked robes around him and finished (for this round at least) his explanation to his two henchmen of just how bloody useless, brainless and spineless they were, when Crabbe screwed up his face in thought, as though trying hard to recall, with much silent moving of his lips, something important.

"So," he said finally, "the next part is, we go to the common room and tell everyone what happened, right?"